kuch geet to duniya ki khatir
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir
sur taal me gaaye jaate hain
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir
sur taal me gaaye jaate hain
kuch geet magar tanhaai me
kuch geet magar tanhaai me
khud ko hi sunaye jaate hain
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir

mumkin nahi raahe ulfat me
har gam ka kare charcha jag se
mumkin nahi raahe ulfat me
har gam ka kare charcha jag se
kuch dard bataye jaate hain
kuch dard bataye jaate hain
kuch dard chhupaye jaate hain
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir
sur taal me gaaye jaate hain
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir

is raah e wafa me e hum dam
ek aisa makam bhi aata hai
is raah e wafa me e hum dam
ek aisa makam bhi aata hai
hans hans ke kiya ho yaad jinhe
hans hans ke kiya ho yaad jinhe
ro ro ke bhulaye jaate hain
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir
sur taal me gaaye jaate hain
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir

hum bhul chuke jin baato ko
jin rishto ko jin naato ko
hum bhul chuke jin baato ko
jin rishto ko jin naato ko
kyon zikr unhi ka kar kar ke
kyon zikr unhi ka kar kar ke
yun log sataye jaate hain
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir
sur taal me gaaye jaate hain
kuch geet magar tanhaai me
kuch geet magar tanhaai me
khud ko hi sunaye jaate hain
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir
kuch geet to duniya ki khatir

Some songs, for the world's grand stage,
Are sung with rhythm, with melodic grace.
Some songs, though, in solitude's embrace,
Are whispered only to the self's own space.
Some songs, for the world's grand stage.

In love's winding, treacherous way,
Not every sorrow can be voiced to day.
In love's winding, treacherous way,
Some pains are spoken, shared and known,
Some aches are kept, forever sown.
Some songs, for the world's grand stage,
Are sung with rhythm, with melodic grace.
Some songs, for the world's grand stage.

Upon this path of faith, my friend,
A turning point will come, the journey's end.
Upon this path of faith, my friend,
Whose memories we once held, with laughter's art,
Are now forgotten, breaking the heart.
Some songs, for the world's grand stage,
Are sung with rhythm, with melodic grace.
Some songs, for the world's grand stage.

The words we've left behind, it seems,
The ties, the bonds, the fading dreams,
The words we've left behind, it seems,
Why do we speak of them, again and again,
And wound ourselves with sorrow's rain?
Some songs, for the world's grand stage,
Are sung with rhythm, with melodic grace.
Some songs, though, in solitude's embrace,
Are whispered only to the self's own space.
Some songs, for the world's grand stage.
Some songs, for the world's grand stage.
Some songs, for the world's grand stage.